


I'm not in the mood for normal people

by aboutelle



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Casual Sex, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 21:47:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6257113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aboutelle/pseuds/aboutelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bonnie would never describe the sex they had as ‘making love’ – if she had to put a word on it, she’d probably go with ‘screwing’, ‘banging’, ‘fucking’ – but there was always an understanding that they were doing this with each other instead of a stranger from a bar because they were friends and cared about each other.</p>
<p>
  <i>Bonnie and Frank try to fuck the pain away. Set after 2x12, not taking into account the events of 2x13. Spoilery summary in Author's Notes.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm not in the mood for normal people

**Author's Note:**

> Summary: When Frank comes to her after getting his heart broken by Laurel, Bonnie tries to get to him to talk.
> 
> Contains references to past-Flaurel as well as past-Bosher.
> 
> Many thanks to **AudreyV** for providing helpful feedback and valuable insights.

It was barely after 10pm when Bonnie heard the knock on her door. She didn’t have to look through the peephole to know it was him. Laurel’s insistent refusal to answer her calls, coupled with Frank’s barely concealed worry had tipped her off and Laurel’s scene in the office earlier had been all the confirmation Bonnie needed.

She opened the door, then stepped back to let Frank enter her apartment. She gave him a quick once-over to assess the damage. It was worse than she’d thought. He didn’t smell like alcohol, smoke, perfume or anything else that indicated he’d spent the last few hours in a bar. He also wasn’t hurt or disheveled from inciting a fight. Frank didn’t display any signs that he’d had an emotional reaction to the breakup.

That was bad; he’d probably want to _talk._

Bonnie decided if they were about to talk feelings, they’d better both be drunk for it. She went over to her liquor cabinet. “You know normal people would rebound with a stranger they picked up in a bar,“ she said as she poured bourbon into a glass.

Frank came up behind her. He wasted no time with the zipper of her shirt, sneaking his hands under it instead and going straight for her naked breasts.

_Thank God, no talking, just sex._

“I’m not in the mood for normal people.”

Bonnie tried to be offended, but his hands on her skin made it difficult. She abandoned her task and lifted her arms, allowing him to pull her shirt off. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against him while he toyed with her nipples. “Why do I always let you do this?” she asked rhetorically.

Instead of an answer he smoothly slid one hand into her panties and brought his fingers to her clit with laser-like precision. Bonnie jerked against him, exhaling sharply, then relaxed into the confident strokes over her center. She rested her head against his shoulder, moaning contently as he rubbed her clit with one hand and massaged her breast with the other.

It was almost unfair how quickly he was able get her to the edge considering how infrequent their trysts were. Frank never came to her because he wanted her, Bonnie knew, he only chose her when he’d been rejected by someone else. Part of her hated that he thought of her as an easy, uncomplicated lay. With Annalise resenting her for a transgression that only happened in her head, Sam thinking he could control her with a kiss and Frank’s infrequent booty calls, she felt like she was being labelled the office slut – even though _objectively_ Frank was way more deserving of that title.

Another part of her was flattered, though. She’d deny it till the day she died of course, but handsome playboy Frank choosing her – even as a substitute for someone else – made her feel sexy and desired. That he always made sure she got as much out of their encounters as he did – which was more than she could say about most other men she’d slept with – certainly didn’t hurt either.

She was close, all she needed was another kind of stimulation now. “Frank,” Bonnie groaned, pressing herself more firmly against his fingers. She prayed he wasn’t in the mood for playing games, because she sure as hell wasn’t after the day they’d all had.

Thankfully Frank seemed to agree; without further comment he bit down hard on her shoulder. His teeth dented her skin, producing a sharp, hot pain that diffused into a duller, more pulling ache as it traveled up her tense muscles towards her neck. As she let the pain pulsate through her body and work as the catalyst she needed, Bonnie started to feel light-headed and she let herself lean heavily into Frank’s tight embrace. She came with a broken scream, trembling against his chest.

Frank held her until her breathing slowed, then let her go and stepped back. When Bonnie turned around, he was already halfway to the bedroom, letting his shirt fall onto the floor. Bonnie took a deep breath, half-heartedly assured herself that she did in fact want this, and followed him.

He was waiting for her, sitting naked on her bed. He stroked his cock lazily as he watched her take off her remaining clothes and lay them on the chair by the cupboard. When she went to join him on the bed, he opened the top drawer of her night stand, took out a condom and put it on.

Bonnie looked at him expectantly but before she could say anything, Frank reached for her and she found herself lying on her back. She readily spread her legs as he positioned himself on top of her, then reached between their bodies to guide him in. Bonnie sighed as he filled her, breathing in the air of after shave that always surrounded him.

Laying down on top of her, almost but not quite crushing Bonnie with his weight, Frank hugged her with both arms. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and began to rock. For a moment Bonnie closed her eyes and let herself get lost in his gentle movements inside her. His weight and warmth was reassuring in the face of the fear that Philip had instilled in her.

Then she remembered who she was with and furrowed her brows. This breakup must have seriously affected him to make him act so cuddly all of a sudden. Part of her thought getting his heart broken like this was only fair retribution for screwing younger, impressionable girls – the same way she couldn’t stop wondering if the same was true for _her_ broken heart.

To Bonnie it made so much sense that Frank and her were trying to fuck away their pain together, since in her mind they were responsible for each other’s heartbreak in a twisted way. If Bonnie hadn’t failed so miserably at steering Laurel away from Frank, he wouldn’t have fallen for her, and if Frank had been available that night, Bonnie wouldn’t have gone to Asher in the first place. She knew it was wrong to blame him for her bad choice, but she couldn’t help the childish feeling that it was unfair. The one time she would have needed him to do for her what she usually did for him, he was unavailable by being entangled with not one but two gorgeous women. So Bonnie had to get her letting off steam sex from Asher and ended up falling for that foolish, good-hearted schmuck.

A lump formed in her throat remembering Asher’s expression when she told him she couldn’t be there for him anymore. That image was quickly replaced by another face of his, though: the way he looked at her after he’d let it slip what Annalise had done…

Bonnie groaned in frustration. She had no desire to follow this train of associations to its logical conclusion again. Especially not right now – with Frank on top and inside of her.

When Sam had been her therapist, he’d always called her out on pushing aside her emotions. But what he’d called ‘suppression’, Bonnie called ‘working’. So – before her brain could produce the next image in the chain – she snapped at Frank: “Can you please stop playing and fuck me already?”

Wordlessly Frank pushed himself up. He looked her square in the eye as he pulled out until only the tip of his cock was inside her. Then he thrust into her again – deep and hard. The force pressed her body into the mattress prompting her bed springs to produce an audible creak.

Bonnie threw her head back and moaned loudly, any conscious thought thankfully forgotten. “That’s what I’m talking about.” She grinned up at him, a twinkle in her eye.

She’d expected a boast about his sexual skill and prowess, a witty remark or at least a smirk damnit, but instead he just began to thrust into her, his face blank. Bonnie almost reflexively gripped his shoulders and met his movements. His rhythm was steady – fast and hard just like she liked it – but something was obviously not as it should be.

Although it happened infrequently, they still had established a sort of routine for these encounters. Whenever he’d screwed up a relationship with another girl, he came to Bonnie, they had sex and he got her off a couple times. (Once one of his girls must have implied something about his skill when she broke up with him because that night Frank had touched her like he wanted to break the record for most orgasms in a row; she had had to stop him from almost fucking her to death…) Afterwards there might be some drinks or a little cuddling if they were in the mood, and then he went home feeling better and she stayed in bed feeling spent, satisfied and only a little used.

She was feeling more than a little used right now, though. Bonnie would never describe the sex they had as ‘making love’ – if she had to put a word on it, she’d probably go with ‘screwing’, ‘banging’, ‘fucking’ – but there was always an understanding that they were doing this with each other instead of a stranger from a bar because they were friends and cared about each other. Sex with Frank didn’t make her feel loved and adored like Asher had made her feel, but normally it didn’t make her feel like a prostitute or sex doll either.

That was exactly how Frank barely acknowledging her since he stepped through the door made her feel, though. She watched his face as he thrust into her. His eyes were focused on some point above her head, sweat beading on his furrowed brows. Frank had fucked the pain of another screwed up relationship away with her more times than Bonnie bothered to count, but she’d never before seen him so angry at himself. Impulsively she reached out to cup his face.

Frank froze. He looked at her, confusion evident on his face, as Bonnie softly stroked his cheek with her thumb.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

There was something in his eyes as he looked at her, something Bonnie had seen with witnesses and clients countless times before, yet still couldn’t quite name. It glimmered in their eyes shortly before they admitted to a lie or gave a detail they’d left out before. For a moment she thought she’d gotten through to Frank and he’d open up finally and she held her breath. But then the something vanished, he set his jaw and Bonnie knew she’d lost him again.

He pushed himself up – her hand dropped from his cheek – wearing an almost defiant expression. He lifted her right leg over his shoulder, before resuming his strong, fast thrusts. The new angle made his cock hit her G-spot and Bonnie abandon all desire to talk. She threw her head back and let him fuck her.

This was way more like what they usually did. No matter how annoying Bonnie found Frank’s bragging and boasting about how good he was in bed, she had to give it to him: it wasn’t unfounded. She had no delusions about them ever becoming a real couple – Annalise would hit the ceiling for one thing, Bonnie knew he was a notorious cheater and also because of a hundred other small reasons – but they were very sexually compatible. When she noticed his breathing becoming ragged, she let her left hand travel to her center, rubbing firm circles over her clit.

They worked in perfect tandem: Frank thrusting rhythmically into her and Bonnie pressing her clit down against his cock with her hand. She closed her eyes, panting and moaning as she felt the tension build in her body. It took only a few more thrust and some firm strokes over her clit to push her over the edge.

Bonnie felt the orgasm wash over her and her vagina contracting around Frank’s cock, and she might have cried out something like “Oh God” or “Yes”, though she wasn’t sure and it didn’t matter anyway. She was vaguely aware of Frank thrusting into her a few more times before he released a low groan and stopped. He held himself inside her for a few moments before he withdrew and laid her leg carefully back on the bed.

Bonnie watched him as he stood, made a quick trip to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, then came back and laid down beside her. She couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but there was still something off about him. It was almost unnerving. The guy lying beside her looked like Frank, sounded like Frank – well, as far as she could tell by the few words he’d spoken – and he almost, but not quite, behaved like Frank. Bonnie felt like she just had had sex with his strange doppelganger.

Frank must have noticed her eyes on him because he turned his head to look at her. He grinned at her – still off but closer to the original – and extended his arm. Bonnie rested her head on his biceps and they laid next to each other in a comfortable silence.

After a few minutes Bonnie let her concern get the better of her. “Feeling better?” she asked.

Instead of answering Frank lifted his eyebrows in a silent question.

“You’re acting weird,” Bonnie explained, “Barely saying a word, evading my questions…” He still stayed silent, so she added: “And you touched me in the living room like giving me an orgasm first is the entrance fee to my vagina.” If that didn’t prompt a reaction, she should seriously look into her doppelganger theory.

“Hey, if you’re not satisfied, just say so,” Frank immediately defended his honor, “Do you want me to eat you out? Spank you? Give me some time and I’ll take you from behind for round two; I know how much you love that…”

Although he was right, she did love that and the image that flashed before her eyes – her hands clutching the bed frame while he pounded into her, his hips hitting her ass with every thrust – sent a tingle down her spine, Bonnie wasn’t willing to let him off the hook that easily. He _was_ acting weird and she was his friend, so she would get to the bottom of this. She decided to address the elephant in the room directly: “Just tell me what happened between you and Laurel.”

When Frank let out a defeated sigh, she knew she’d won. He gave her a ‘be right back’ look, stood and walked out of the room. Bonnie used the opportunity to turn on the bedside lamp and slip under the covers. When he came back, he held a glass of bourbon in each hand. He gave Bonnie one, then joined her under the sheets. They sat and sipped on their drinks.

“So?” Bonnie prompted.

Frank gave her some annoyed side-eye, but relented quickly. “I told her about something I did, something bad, and she freaked,” he said gloomily.

“How bad?” Bonnie asked reflexively. Then she decided she knew too many secrets already: “Don’t tell me any specifics, just… ‘Could be spun into a misdemeanor by a competent defense attorney’ bad or ‘Thank your lucky stars if you don’t get the needle’ bad?”

“Latter,” Frank replied. “You know, I thought if I start with the worst, …”

“… then the other stuff wouldn’t look so bad in comparison,” Bonnie finished his sentence.

“Yeah,” Frank said, “And I thought after what her father does, she would be, I don’t know, okay with it, I guess?”

Bonnie just looked at him.

“Okay, maybe not _okay_ , but I hoped she would at least let me explain,” he defended himself.

“You think if you explained yourself, it would change things?”

Frank was silent for a long time, before he conceded: “No, I guess not.” His voice sounded strangely husky and if Bonnie didn’t know better she would have sworn there were tears in his eyes. “I’m not who she thought I was.”

Bonnie didn’t know what to do say, so she stayed quiet and occupied herself with her drink while he did the same.

This silence wasn’t half as comfortable. After what felt like an eternity Frank spoke up again. “So, what happened between you and Doucheface?”

Bonnie really didn’t want to talk about Asher. She had fucked Frank to forget about him, it had worked, and she had no desire to ruin her residual afterglow by thinking about what had happened at Trotter Lake. After pushing Frank to talk to her so hard, she couldn’t exactly tell him to mind his own business, though. “He wasn’t who I thought he was either,” she stated.

“It’s not because of what he did to that ADA, right?”

“No. He… His father…” Bonnie sighed deeply, then said in one breath: “A girl was gang raped at his party. His father covered it up.”

“Did he rape her?” Frank asked. His face didn’t give anything away, but his tone told Bonnie everything she needed to know.

“No,” she said emphatically, “he only knew about it after it happened.” For a hot second she wondered why she even felt the need to defend Asher’s actions – or inaction – with Tiffany, but then she imagined what Frank would do to Asher if she let him believe he deserved it.

“So now you can’t look at him the same way anymore,” Frank stated. He didn’t say _because of what your father did to you_. She knew he knew, but he never brought it up which Bonnie was grateful for.

She nodded and took another sip from her drink. Next to her Frank grew very quiet again.

Bonnie studied his profile; his set jaw and his shiny eyes. She placed her glass on the night stand, scooted closer and laid her head on his shoulder. He brought his arm around her lower back and let his hand rest on her stomach.

“Look at us, whining about our college aged exes. Have we always been this pathetic?” he asked after a while.

Bonnie moved so she could look at him. “Me? No. You? Definitely,” she said with a teasing grin.

Frank looked at her in mock-offense for a second, then regarded her rather seriously. He brought his hand up to cup her face and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “Thank you,” he said.

Bonnie flashed him a smile, before settling back to lean against him again. “Any time,” she replied.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~I'm so sorry, but someone had to write this pairing. We'll go back to your regularly scheduled femslash after this.~~
> 
> Concrit as always greatly appreciated.


End file.
